


Where The Dawn Breaks

by simeysgirl



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-12
Updated: 2014-05-12
Packaged: 2018-01-24 12:36:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1605431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simeysgirl/pseuds/simeysgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry takes an unconventional holiday. He was expecting sun, sand and other things beginning with S. He was not expecting to see more of Draco Malfoy than he ever had before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where The Dawn Breaks

**Title:** Where the Dawn Breaks  
 **Pairing:** Harry/Draco  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Word Count:** 14,327   
**Summary:** Harry takes an unconventional holiday. He was expecting sun, sand and other things beginning with S. He was not expecting to see more of Draco Malfoy than he ever had before.  
 **Disclaimer:** Harry Potter belongs to JKR.  
 **A/N:** This was supposed to be a short 1-2k PWP from a comment that Wendy made concerning nudist!Harry and Draco. Alas, it was not to be. I hope you all enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. 

Harry desperately needed a holiday. He knew this for many reasons. One: He was getting pretty fed up of hiding out from the press and his adoring fans in Grimmauld Place all day. Two: He wanted some sun, sea and definitely some sex. Three: Everyone from his friends to the bloke behind the counter at the local shop told him so on a daily basis.

_“You could do with a little break, Harry.”_

_“You look like you could do with getting away from this circus, me lad.”_

_“Why don't you take a holiday before you decide what to do with your life?”_

Harry rolled his eyes as Hermione's words went through his mind. She had been adamant that Harry _do_ something with his life instead of 'moping about the house'. Harry personally though that moping about the house had been a brilliant way to spend his time. He'd managed to make the house infinitely more liveable with the help of Kreacher and didn't miss his short-lived career with the Ministry one little bit.

This was how his kitchen table was now littered with brochure after brochure depicting everywhere from the beautiful beaches in Hawaii to the bustling streets of Barcelona. Harry knew he needed a holiday; he just didn't know _where_. Harry had made the simple mistake of telling Ron during a night out in the Leaky last week that he had decided to actually take a break. The following morning Harry had realised his mistake. He had woken up to what seemed to be a thousand owls, carrying what seemed to be a brochure for every wizarding and Muggle holiday spot in the world. He had vowed there and then that he wouldn't talk in public again without a _Muffliato_ in place.

Harry sighed as he shuffled through the brochures, stopping every now and again when a sandy beach—it wasn't the guys in shorts, honest—caught his eye.

“This is too hard!” he grumbled out loud, swiping a hand over the table and sending the contents flying onto the floor. _Why can't I just pick one?_

Harry had a sudden idea. Closing his eyes, he tried to picture the perfect holiday. _Sun, sea, sex. What about snow,_ he thought, _I've never been skiing. Snow, slopes, sex. Or a safari! Or a cruise! What about diving?_

“Fuck it,” Harry said with a sigh before raising his wand. “ _Accio_ perfect holiday brochure,” he cried, hoping that his magic would make his decision for him.

He couldn't have been more wrong. “Aaargh!” Harry screamed as every single brochure came flying towards him. Some even had staples. 

_That's what you get for generalising,_ his inner voice told him. _Each holiday is perfect at different times and for different people._ Harry silently wondered when his inner voice had turned into Hermione. He didn't like it; he wanted it to shut up and stop smirking at him. He especially didn't like the fact that he was now arguing with _himself._

Harry very briefly cursed all of his friends for having actual jobs and therefore unable to make this momentous decision for him. There were simply far too many choices to even consider _eenie, meenie, minie, mo_. And it simply couldn't wait until later; once Harry had his mind set on something, it had to be done, preferably sooner rather than later.

“Right!” Harry cried, holding his wand out in front of him. “This way!” 

Harry was slightly worried that he had started talking to the holiday brochures but, as they obediently started following him anyway, Harry thought that one was okay.

Harry guided the pamphlets into the drawing room and rolled up his sleeves. He had another idea. Picking up the first brochure, Harry smiled at the golden sands and tanned young men pictured on the front before walking over to the wall and pinning it right over where Tonks' name used to be embroidered.

Nodding to himself, Harry stuck another to the wall, and another, and another, until all four walls were papered in the brochures. Harry smiled and closed his eyes. He held his arms out to his sides and spun; he span around and around until he felt dizzy and more than a little nauseous. Harry shot a spark out of his wand before he was _actually_ sick, and sat down on the floor to get his bearings back.

Harry waited for the last remnants of dizziness to disappear before opening his eyes and looking around the room to find out where he'd be holidaying. 

“Aha!” he yelled triumphantly. “Shit!” he cried, jumping up from the floor to put out the fire.

Harry doused the small flame and peeled the brochure off the wall. Drying it with a wave of his wand, Harry reeled back in shock at what he held in his hands. 

“What the—?” Harry started but closed his mouth upon noticing that nobody was fleeing from the fire or shaking their tiny fists at him. The pictures were still—it was a Muggle resort. There would be no wizards, clamouring for his attention; no worries about the press following him. _But still_...

“Fuck it. You only live once. Twice. Three times. Whatever.” Harry pocketed the brochure and grabbed his coat. It was time to book a holiday.

~

Harry Apparated to Diagon Alley as he still didn't like travelling by Floo. If he was going to book a Muggle holiday, he would need some Muggle money. He walked as quickly as he could through the Alley but it wasn't quick enough. 

Harry groaned when he first heard the first shout and debated how long he could feasibly ignore his fans. As the calls— _It's Harry Potter! Harry! Mr Potter!_ —increased in both volume and frequency, Harry made a snap decision—that was _not_ cowardly, thank you very much—and _ran_.

He was slightly out of breath by the time he reached the steps of Gringotts and Harry silently cursed his lack of exercise over the last few months. Harry took his time having his money converted. He didn't usually like to spend a lot of time with the goblins—they still hadn't forgiven him fully for the dragon—but as his only other option was facing the hoards he assumed were waiting for him outside, Harry made small talk with the goblin serving him and asked the dreaded question. There really was no other way; he couldn't go back out into that crowd. 

“Have you got a Floo I can use, please?” 

~

It was a short walk from Grimmauld Place to get into town and Harry found the travel agency without too much trouble. After all, asking four random fellow shoppers and a policeman for directions was a perfectly normal thing to do if you were unfamiliar with an area.

Entering the shop, Harry immediately felt out of place. The well-dressed sales girl looked him over with something akin to disgust on her face. Harry idly thought how ridiculous it was that she was judging him on his clothing—especially if you considered where he planned to go on holiday. Harry didn't care one little teeny weeny bit about his appearance. All of his clothing was new—well, newish—but it was simply comfortable instead of stylish.

Harry could tell the woman thought she wouldn't be making a huge sale with him; the way she resolutely looked at her computer screen instead whenever Harry tried to make eye contact was clear enough, but her conversation with her colleague on ' _who would take this one_ ' sealed it.

Harry cleared his throat and went to sit in front of her desk. _Cheeky bitch_ , he thought.

“Oh, hello, sir,” the sales girl began. “How can I help you today?”

“I'd like to book a holiday to Belle Playa, please—” Harry looked at her name tag. “—Marie.”

Harry hid a smile at the look of shock that passed over her face. Belle Playa was not only an _unconventional_ holiday, it was bloody expensive. 

“Certainly, we can look at that now for you, sir.” The shock was replaced by disbelief on Marie's face. “We can also look into some other resorts, if you'd like. When would you like to go?”

“No, I'd really like to go to Belle Playa, thank you,” Harry answered, biting back a growl. Harry had chosen the resort randomly but once he had thought about it in depth, he found he quite liked the idea. “And I'd like to go sometime in the next month.”

“Okay,” she replied coolly. “This is high season, so the prices are quite expensive. And you would have to pay straight away.”

Harry grinned and reached into his pocket. “Cash okay?”

At the sight of the thick wad of twenty pound notes in Harry's hand, the girl's face dropped and she sat up straighter in her chair. 

“Of course, sir. Cash is perfectly fine. Now, let's have a look what we can do for you. Can I get you a cup of tea while we sort it out?”

Harry couldn't help it; he laughed. 

~

Harry sighed as he reached for his beer. He was starting to think inviting his best friends out for a drink was a bad idea. He had only wanted to tell them that he had booked a holiday, and to not expect any mail from him for a while. Instead he found himself stuck in a corner of the Leaky— _Muffliato_ fully in place—having his ear talked off by Hermione. 

Hermione had been stupidly happy when Harry had told her he booked a holiday, and was determined to find out where he was going. Harry, while not embarrassed by his choice, didn't feel the need to tell her. He'd told her that he was going away for some peace and quiet and didn't want, or expect, any owls.

Hermione, being Hermione, couldn't let it go; she _needed_ to know. Ron, being Ron, didn't care and told her so.

“Can't a wizard have any privacy, love?” Ron asked. “Leave him alone!”

Hermione's eyes took on a strange glint at his words. Harry raised his pint to Ron in thanks and waited for Hermione's next course of action.

“Oh,” she said suddenly. “Is it one of _those_ types of holidays?”

Harry regretted having just taken a gulp of his beer as he started in shock and it dribbled down his chin.

“Because you can tell us,” Hermione continued, obviously oblivious to Harry's discomfort. “We're your friends and we support everything you do.” Hermione finished by putting her hands over Harry's.

“What are you on about?” Harry tentatively asked. He wasn't sure he wanted to know.

“You know,” she angled her head and spoke quietly. “One of the gay cruises.”

Harry didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Ron simply sat opposite him with a look of utter shock on his face; the corners of his mouth were twitching but he obviously knew better than to laugh at his girlfriend.

“What _are_ you on about?” Harry repeated. 

“When you told us about your sexuality, we—” Hermione said. Ron coughed. “Sorry, _I_ did some research. I wanted to be able to support you fully.”

Harry didn't know why he found himself surprised. He held his hand up to stop Hermione in her tracks. “No, I'm not going on a 'gay cruise', although that does sound, erm, _interesting_.”

“Where _are_ you going, then?” Hermione asked again.

Harry resisted the urge to bang his head on the table. _Bang!_ Ron did not. 

“Hermione, let it go!” Ron said.

“I'm going to take a break. I'm sorry; I'm not telling you where. If nobody knows, nobody can know.” Harry thought his reasoning was brilliant and nodded happily to himself. “I'll see you in two weeks,” he said, standing up to leave.

“But, I do need your help,” Harry said, sitting back down. “Can you explain to me how to use an airport?”

~

Harry ran through the check-list in his head— _luggage, money, passport, tickets, toothbrush, the extras_ —before taking a last look around the house. He knew Kreacher would be here but he had to to make sure that he hadn't left the tap running in the bathroom or the fridge door open. Once Harry was satisfied, he picked up his bags, put on his sunglasses and left for the airport.

Hermione had been very happy to explain the workings of the Muggle airport. She had tried to wheedle his destination out of him one last time before Harry finally snapped ' _the beach'_ at her and mollified her slightly. Ron had sat up straighter upon hearing that Harry was 'going Muggle' but, thankfully, had not gone further than that. Harry wouldn't have even told them that much—he didn't know why exactly—but Hermione was the only person he knew who had actually visited an airport.

Not wanting to risk Apparating and not fancying the prospect of the tube, Harry hailed a taxi to take him to Heathrow. As he arrived at the airport, Harry realised he owed Hermione a _lot_ of thanks. It was huge and like nothing he had ever experienced before; he never would have been able to manage without her implicit—and written—instructions. 

Harry made his way through the crowds to his check-in desk and he noticed something. Not one person took more than a second glance at him. Harry could've gladly stayed there forever. Here, he was just another traveller, making his way. He liked being the only wizard around. Harry couldn't wait to see if his entire holiday would be the same.

~

The first thing that hit Harry as he stepped off the plane was the heat. He didn't know how to describe it, and he was sure he had never felt heat like it before. Harry was sure that it had a different name. Humidity, or air pressure, or something. All Harry knew was that it was hot. And he loved it. 

Harry eventually found his transfer to the resort and sighed gratefully before getting in. It had been a long flight, and Harry just needed to get to the hotel, strip off and jump in the pool. Before he could do that, Harry had to endure what felt like weeks in the sweltering coach. Harry berated his decision to travel as a Muggle; if he'd just Apparated straight to the resort, he could've been in that pool by now. Harry debated running to the toilet and Apparating from there, but the thought of the trouble it might cause, coupled with the fact that his luggage was stowed beneath the bus, kept him sitting in his seat, pretending to read his book and dying of dehydration.

“Welcome to Belle Playa!” was the greeting Harry received as he stumbled off the coach and into the beaming sunshine. “Please, leave your luggage where it is; it will be taken to your rooms. It's time for a refreshing drink! Please, follow me!”

Harry smiled happily and followed the young man. This holiday was shaping up nicely already—a drink sounded like a great idea. And it _had_ been a long time since he'd followed a naked man anywhere.

Following the small group into a thankfully shaded area, Harry took a proffered drink and sat down to listen to the man talk. He wasn't the most comfortable he's ever felt; he'd never felt over-dressed before.

“Again, welcome to Belle Playa. My name is Tony, and I have been working here for ten years. I love it here and can guarantee you will enjoy your stay! Before I show you to your rooms, I have to inform you of some of our rules.

Harry sat up and took notice. _Rules?_ He hadn't expected rules. He really thought that this would've been a freeing experience. That was what he was looking forward to most: somewhere where he wouldn't be judged; a place where he could just relax and be himself for once in his life. Harry had never thought about doing anything like this before, and it had taken a spark out of his wand to make him even consider it, but he had been looking forward to it. 

_Shit_ , he thought, when he realised that Tony had continued talking.

“So, that's it, basically,” Tony said and Harry's heart dropped. Why the fuck couldn't he concentrate for two minutes? 

_Fuck_ , he thought when he realised that Tony still hadn't finished.

“—just a couple, but they are very important for everybody's enjoyment and safety.” Tony finished his talk with a smile. Harry tried to smile back.

“To reiterate the important rules,” Tony said and Harry nearly laughed in relief before telling himself to listen. “One: No bathing costumes of any kind allowed in the swimming pool. Two: Clothes to be worn after 8pm in the restaurants and bars. Three: You must always carry a towel with you to sit on. Four: Enjoy your holiday!”

Harry was torn between screwing his face up in disgust and laughing out loud at the towel rule. It made sense but he really didn't want to think about other people's sweat on the loungers. _Oh god_ , he suddenly thought in disgust, _the bar has leather seats_.

“Now I'm sure you'd like to settle into your rooms and start your holiday properly,” Tony said with his seemingly never-ending smile on his face. “Please follow me and I'll show you where you're staying.”

Harry looked warily at the other holidaymakers and had to stop himself shouting at them to remember their towels. 

~

After checking out his room and unpacking, Harry undressed and, remembering his towel, made his way down to the pool. He did have a quick panic when he wondered where to put his room key, but on noticing what he thought was simply a decorative band was actually a wrist strap he relaxed. The hotel really did think of _everything_.

Harry had wondered what his own reaction would be upon being faced with boobs and bits _everywhere_ he looked, but he was pleased to note that it didn't bother him. His assumption had been correct; it _was_ freeing.

Sparing a quick thought to what his friends, and in particular Ron, would think of him now, Harry threw his towel and his sun lotion onto a spare lounger and jumped into the large pool.

Harry was having a fantastic time in the pool. He had always loved swimming, and swimming in the nude was glorious. It reminded him of the time he had gone in the prefects bath but without the bubbles. And the ghost. The sun was beating down on him and Harry dragged himself out of the cooling water to get a drink. He briefly considered going for his towel but as he looked around at his fellow guests lounging and walking around without a second thought to covering up, Harry relented and walked to the bar naked.

Harry stood next to the bar as he drank his cold beer and worried as he felt the strange sensation of the sun burning his arse. He had made sure to cover his normally-white bits with plenty of factor 30 before leaving his room, but Harry thought that maybe it was time for another application. 

The poolside was busier than it was when he first arrived, and Harry was thankful that he'd remembered to grab a lounger beforehand. As he walked to where he had thrown his towel, Harry frowned as he noticed that someone had taken his seat. _Bastard!_ Harry raged in his head as he stormed over to the man sunbathing on his front.

“Excuse me,” Harry calmly said, after all, no use making enemies on the first day. “I think you must be mistaken; I claimed this lounger earlier. My towel and lotion were on here.”

“Yes, they're on the table,” the man said without moving. “The sun was much better over here. Don't worry, I won't be long.”

Harry was struck by a familiarity in the man's voice and as the man turned his head to speak again, Harry nearly fainted. It had him reaching for his towel, anyway.

“Malfoy?” 

“Potter?”

Malfoy jumped up from the lounger and wrapped his towel around himself; Harry had already done the same. They both spoke over one another, and quite loudly at that.

“—of all the—” 

“—wizard free, my arse—” 

“—supposed to be relaxing—” 

“—just wanted—”

“—peace and quiet!”

“—peace and quiet!”

They both stopped talking as they realised what they had said and Harry found himself inexplicably bursting into laughter. Malfoy soon followed.

“Is everything okay here, sirs?” The hotel manager had obviously been summoned by the grumpy looking bloke behind the bar and was running towards them with surprising speed. 

Harry raised an eyebrow at Malfoy and received a nod in return. 

“We're fine,” Harry told the now-panting man. “Sorry for the disruption.”

Harry sighed and sat down heavily onto the lounger. Malfoy joined him.

“What are the fucking chances?” he asked, flopping his head onto his hands.

“One in thirteen million, three hundred and sixty-five thousand, nine hundred and twenty-five,” Malfoy said with a straight face. “I looked it up: the chances of Harry Potter choosing the same Muggle holiday as me, in the same resort and the same week. And choosing the same lounger.”

Harry laughed again. Why hadn't he ever noticed that Malfoy was funny? 

Harry didn't know what to do. He was pretty sure he should be ranting and fighting by now, but, if he was perfectly honest with himself, he just didn't want to. He was on holiday, the weather was glorious and he just couldn't get himself worked up enough to bother. He was well aware that he was naked, and he had been so sure that no one would have discovered his new-found love of naturism but he hadn't felt this peaceful in a long time. A quick glance at Malfoy showed that he too had a bemused look on his face. Harry made a decision.

“Fancy a drink?” he asked the man beside him.

“Why not?” Malfoy said, standing up and indicating the bar. “Don't forget your towel,” he added with a shudder, causing Harry to laugh once more.

Once they were both seated and been served with fresh drinks Harry thought for something to say to start the conversation. What did one say to a person they went to school with, had never seen eye to eye with, and hadn't actually seen for three years? Harry refused to think about the fact that he was also naked.

“So...”

“So...”

Harry laughed and Malfoy joined in. Harry spared a passing thought for his sanity and pressed on. 

“What are you doing _here_?” Harry asked before taking a drink. 

Malfoy smiled. “I wanted a holiday, but couldn't decide on where to go; Pansy had been pestering me so I had to make a snap decision. I got hold of as many brochures as I could find, threw them in the air and grabbed one at random,” Malfoy explained. “What about you? How did you decide on this place?”

Harry nearly choked on his drink and Malfoy shot him a worried look. Harry wiped his mouth and bit down the laugh that was bubbling inside him. _What the fuck is wrong with me?_ Harry asked himself.

“Nearly the same way, except I pinned the brochures to the wall and sent a spark at one of them,” Harry admitted, blushing slightly. “When did you get here?”

“At least my way wasn't a fire hazard,” Malfoy said without a trace of malice. “I got here two days ago; it's different but beautiful. So, how shocked were you when you saw what type of resort it was?”

“It was the Muggle thing that made me agree to it.”

Malfoy nodded. “I know.”

The pair talked for hours. They discussed their reasons for getting away from the wizarding world—Harry was surprised to discover that Malfoy's reasons were basically the same as his—and how they felt about naturism and their holiday resort in particular. Harry found Malfoy's views on the subject refreshing; gone was the Malfoy he had once known, and in his place Harry was pleased to find a companionable, funny and pleasant man.

The years had obviously done Draco Malfoy the world of good. He was still a snarky bastard, but Malfoy had an edge to him now that told Harry just how _much_ he'd changed. His comments were no longer tinged with malice, rather given with a touch of humour; where once his face would've curled up in disgust, now it curled into a smile as he told a story about one of their schoolmates. Harry liked it. He didn't know how, or why, but he did.

It was nearing time for dinner and Harry found himself torn between returning to his solitary holiday and not wanting to bring an end to one of the most pleasant days he had had in a very long time.

“We should go and get dressed for dinner,” Malfoy said, placing his empty glass down and standing up. “I don't particularly fancy dining in nothing but a towel. And I highly doubt anyone else would want to see that either.”

Harry had been enjoying their conversation so much that he had completely forgotten that both he and Malfoy were naked. Harry found he didn't care.

“Well, it _is_ a very nice towel, but rules are rules.” Harry smiled at Malfoy and stood up. “It's been a nice afternoon; thanks, Malfoy.”

“Draco,” Malfoy said, holding his hand out. “Please, we're supposed to be grown-ups; I think we've proved that we're not the same people we were years ago.”

Harry noticed the insecurity in Malfoy's—Draco's—face and quickly shook the offered hand before making a decision. “Draco, would you like to join me for dinner?”

Draco nodded. “That would be nice. See you in the dining room, Harry.”

~

As Harry showered and changed for dinner, he thought back over the afternoon and wondered how dinner would be. Harry wasn't stupid; he knew that a friendship with Draco wouldn't have worked when they were younger. They had been too different to have ever been close. 

Harry had been eighteen when he had last seen Draco, and back then he hadn't given a second thought as to _why_ Malfoy had been like he was. Harry had assumed that Draco was simply a bully and a spoilt brat; he couldn't have been more wrong. Draco had made a few off hand comments about his life during the war and Harry had begun to understand. Most of their conversation was light-hearted, but Harry had noticed the way Draco's eyes had darkened when the war was touched upon so hadn't pushed the issue. Draco had been nothing but a child, manipulated by the adults around him to be the way he was. Harry could sympathise; maybe they hadn't been so different after all.

Harry entered the dining room and his mind was still swirling, attempting to make some sense of the fact that he was about to sit down willingly to have dinner with Draco Malfoy. Spotting Draco sitting at a small table near the large windows, Harry waved away the waiter and moved towards the man.

“Evening,” Harry said, alerting Draco to his presence. “Have you ordered?”

Draco jumped slightly but quickly recovered. “No, I was waiting on you. Please, sit down.”

The awkwardness quickly gave way to the easiness of earlier in the afternoon as the evening wore on. Dinner was fantastic; the food was utterly delicious and the expensive wine that Draco had chosen was flowing freely. 

“Can I ask you something?” Draco said as they finished their meal. 

“You just did, but you can ask another.” Harry simply laughed at Draco's raised eyebrow. “Sorry, I couldn't resist.”

“Why _did_ you leave the Aurors?”

Harry's smile slipped slightly as he thought over the question. “I'd had enough,” he finally said. “Enough of the Ministry and their pompous arses and of the bad guys. Everyone assumed that I would—could—save them. It was always, _'No, we want Harry Potter, not random Auror number twelve'_. Eurgh.”

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry or make you uncomfortable,” Draco said, reaching over and patting Harry's hand. “We can change the subject if you'd like.”

“No, it's okay. I need to talk to someone about it.” Harry's face brightened. “And seeing as how you asked, you can bear the brunt of it.”

Draco laughed and Harry drained his glass. 

“But we're going to need more wine,” Harry insisted, beckoning the waiter over.

Draco poured them both fresh glasses and sat back in his chair. Harry could tell that he was actually interested in hearing what he had to say. Harry wasn't used to it.

“I had my life planned out for me,” Harry began and Draco nodded as if he knew exactly what Harry meant. “I was going to join the Aurors straight from Hogwarts and be the best Auror ever. I was going to work my way up the ranks, with my new bride, Ginny, by my side. She was going to stay at home and bear me children, and they were going to grow up and go to school and be best friends with Ron and Hermione's kids. We were going to live in Grimmauld Place and fix up my parents' old house in Godric's Hollow for the weekends.”

Draco didn't say anything, he just took a sip of his drink and gestured at Harry to continue. Harry laughed grimly.

“That is what was going to happen, everybody said so. We had barely got through the funerals and trials before Molly was asking when I was going to propose. Kingsley had already told me that I needn't go back to Hogwarts; there was a spot with my name on it in the Aurors already. Hermione was pestering me to fix up the house as it wasn't fit for a family.

“But it wasn't to be. I didn't _want_ to marry Ginny and, as luck would have it, she didn't want to marry me. She'd moved on and who could've blamed her? Anyway, I did join the Aurors and I hated every minute of it. I'd done my fighting; I'd had enough of all that. So I left. And now I'm here; trying to figure out what to do next.”

Harry downed his glass of wine and Draco automatically refilled it. 

“What about you?” Harry asked. “I thought you'd be married to some perfect pure-blood by now, with your heir running about the manor and you off in the Ministry somewhere.”

“Ah, yours are not the only plans that fell through. If it were up to my father, all of that would probably be true.”

Harry flinched at the mention of Lucius and hoped that Draco had missed it.

“But, as you know,” Draco said with a smirk on his face, “he's safely in Azkaban where he holds no control over my life. And I hope he stays there for the foreseeable future. I like leading my own life. Yeah, I don't know exactly what I want to do with it, but I like the fact that it _is_ my choice.”

Harry raised his glass. “To us and doing what the fuck we want!”

“To us!” Draco repeated, clinking their glasses together. “But I think we'd better do what the fuck we want tomorrow. It looks like we're about to be kicked out.”

Harry looked around and found that Draco was correct. Apart from the waiter and a lone barman, Harry and Draco were the only people in the restaurant and most of the lights had already been turned off.

“Oops.” Harry finished his drink and stood on shaky legs. “Thank you for a lovely evening; can we do it again?”

Draco nodded and Harry dragged himself off to his room, not entirely sure that the day had been real.

~

Despite his over-indulgence the previous night, Harry awoke early. His head was pounding and his mouth tasted like something had crawled into it overnight and died, but he had a small smile on his face as he thought over yesterday. Stumbling into the bathroom, Harry relieved himself and brushed his teeth before rummaging in his toiletries bag for the hangover potion he had packed _just in case_.

The potion worked instantly and Harry, not for the first time in his life, thanked Merlin that he was a wizard. He had a holiday to be enjoying, and spending the day in bed recovering from an abundance of alcohol and good food was not on the top of his to-do list.

Not bothering with clothes—he really was loving this naturist lifestyle—Harry grabbed a towel and made his way to the poolside. A quick swim before breakfast would be just what the healer ordered.

“What the—?” Harry cried as he neared the pool.

A small crowd of early-risers had gathered and were staring in horror and confusion at the mass of floats on the top of the water, all bearing the same word: PERV.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please go inside and help yourself to tea, coffee and breakfast,” the booming voice of the manager sounded. “I'll have this cleared up. It's more than likely just some local children playing a joke.”

Harry did as he was asked and followed his fellow guests into the dining room. Looking over their faces, Harry was saddened to see the looks of upset and worry. Harry had to wonder who would do such a thing. Naturists weren't perverts; quite the opposite actually. Naturism was about embracing the natural state and enjoying the freedom to be without clothes if one so wished—not as a way of leering at the other guests.

Harry poured himself a cup of tea and settled back into his chair to wait.

“Good morning,” Draco said as he slipped into the seat beside Harry. “What's going on?”

“Morning,” Harry said, deliberately leaving of the 'good'. “Someone vandalised the pool last night. They're cleaning it up now.”

Draco looked shocked and moved to the window to look out at the damage. Harry could tell by the appalled look on the man's face that he had seen the words.

“Who would do such a thing?” Draco muttered angrily. “I thought this was a safe place.”

“The manager thinks it was some kids,” Harry replied, pasting as smile on his face. “Hopefully, he's right. Whoever it was though, I refuse to let them spoil my holiday.”

Draco nodded and silence reigned for a few minutes as the pair drank their drinks and nibbled on some toast that the waiter had brought over for them.

“You know,” Draco said quietly, “when I woke up this morning, I didn't know if yesterday was real or not. Did Harry Potter really spend the day chatting with me?”

Harry smiled. “I thought the same. With Draco Malfoy instead, of course.”

They looked at each other and it was an odd moment, and one that Harry wouldn't have been able to describe to anybody else. Harry didn't know why he felt calm, but he did. He was enjoying spending time with Draco and he planned on continuing to enjoy it for as long as it was possible. It felt nice to do something for himself for a change, without the constant scrutiny of his friends and the entire wizarding world. It was simply—Harry couldn't think of a better word—nice. 

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” the manager shouted over the cacophony of noise in the dining room. “I apologise profusely for the disruption this morning. I sincerely hope that this will not mar your time spent here at Belle Playa. We will do our utmost to ensure that nothing like this will happen again. The pool is now open; enjoy your day.”

Harry finished his tea and stood up. “I'm off to the pool; I have to get the best lounger.”

Draco laughed and stood as well. “Race you,” he said as he darted out of the room.

~

The next few days passed without incident. Harry didn't purposely seek him out, but if he managed to run into Draco at the pool, well, it would be rude not to talk to him. For hours. And it really wasn't Harry's fault that he and Draco always managed to turn up in the dining hall at the same time. Despite his words to Ron and Hermione, Harry found it was nice to have _some_ company.

Harry was simply enjoying his holiday. If part of that was due to his surprising and blossoming friendship with Draco, Harry couldn't bring himself to care. He'd think about it some other time. He had swimming to do.

Harry dragged himself out of the pool and went to dry off naturally in the sun. Draco had had a quick swim first thing and buggered off, citing a desperate need for a massage. Harry didn't like the thought—or the thought that he wasn't liking the thought—of some nubile young woman running her hands all over Draco and was doing his utmost to _not_ think about it. He didn't want to think about Draco's naked body being touched and he _definitely_ didn't want to think about _why_ he was thinking that.

Harry needed a distraction. He also needed to stop lounging in the sun, drinking beer all day; he didn't want to go home two stone heavier.

“Anyone for tennis?” came the cheerful call from smiley-greeter-bloke—Tony, Harry corrected himself. 

Harry smiled. A game of tennis was just what he needed. Yes, he hadn't played a game since he was ten, and no, he didn't relish the thought of his willy flapping in the wind as he ran about but it sounded like a bloody good plan. Nothing like naked sports to keep you fit and take your mind off your confusing thoughts.

“I'm in!” Harry called over to Tony before he lost his nerve.

Harry was slightly apprehensive; he hadn't actually socialised with any of the other guests—besides Draco—since he'd arrived. Pulling himself together, Harry stood up and joined the small group heading towards the tennis courts. 

Harry, thankfully, remembered the basics of tennis—the scoring and the game structure—from Primary school, so as Tony explained the rules to an elderly couple, Harry scoped out the competition. It might be a bit of fun, but Harry hadn't lost his competitive edge—he wanted to win!

The elderly couple were, well, elderly. The pair of girls were giggly and too concentrated on their gossip to be any real threat. The middle-aged couple looked as if they'd played a few sets in their time; they were the ones to watch. There were also a couple of teenagers and other couples mingling about; Harry didn't even know if they were playing or not.

“Right!” Tony called. “Shall we play singles or doubles?”

The chorus of 'Doubles!' made Harry's smile drop. He didn't have a partner; looking at Tony, Harry shot him a frown.

“It sounds like it's doubles,” Tony said. “I haven't got a partner, anyone care to pair up with me?”

Harry smiled gratefully before moving towards him. 

“Ooh, tennis!” Harry's heart sank as his confusing thoughts came swirling back as Draco walked onto the court, towel slung over one shoulder. “Can anyone join in?”

“Of course, Mr Malfoy!” Tony said happily. “Would you like to partner Mr Potter?”

“Call me Draco, please.” 

Harry's heart sank further at the smile that Draco bestowed upon their host.

“And I'd love to,” Draco added.

Harry fought down a blush as Draco turned towards him and bestowed an even brighter smile on him.

Harry was mistaken—tennis was not a bloody good plan. It was a bloody brilliant plan. After an awkward moment where Harry had questioned Draco's knowledge of the game— _Malfoys love Wimbledon, thank you very much_ —he and Draco had worked together pretty well. They had quickly despatched Elderly Couple and were well on their way to beating Giggly Girls three sets to nothing. Apparently, Malfoys _did_ love tennis. 

As Draco produced a great drop shot to win the game, set and match, Harry had to hold himself back from hugging the man and made do with a high five. Harry hadn't laughed so much in a long time. He refused to let himself think that it was all down to Draco, and told himself it was the adrenaline of playing a sport instead. Harry also refused to admit to himself that Draco's lack of interest in Giggly Girls' boobs made him happy.

Harry was pulled screaming out of his thoughts by the blinding pain that started in his groin and spread throughout his body. Giggly Girl number one had obviously taken offence at being beaten so soundly and hurled a ball in frustration straight at the celebrating pair. Harry hadn't seen the ball coming towards his, well, balls and thus had not been able to avoid the searing pain of a tennis ball hitting him squarely in the groin. 

Harry crumpled to the floor and Draco rushed over to him. The bloody bastard looked as if he was torn between worry, sympathy and laughter. Harry could hear the Giggly Girls apologising profusely but he couldn't bring himself to care. Draco's face came close to his and Harry forced himself to smile. Luckily, Giggly Girl didn't have _that_ much of a strong throw; the pain was lessening very very slightly.

“New balls, please!” Draco called and Harry didn't know whether to laugh or smack him.

Draco helped Harry stagger to his feet and half-carried him to his room, waving off the staff who came over to see what the problem was. Once Harry had opened the door, he hobbled over to the bed and flopped down, wincing as he did so. 

“Let me have a look,” Draco said, moving closer.

Harry automatically cupped himself before yelping in pain. He didn't appreciate Draco's chuckle.

“Come on,” Draco insisted, sitting down. “It's nothing I haven't seen before. And I can't heal it without looking at it.”

Harry's head snapped up in shock. “Heal it?”

“Yes, heal it.” Draco chuckled again and stood up. “Why suffer when you don't have to? I'll just go and get my wand.”

Harry slumped back onto the pillows as he waited for Draco to return. What the fuck was he going to do? He'd come to terms with the fact that he found Draco attractive, and he couldn't deny that he found the man's company over the last couple of days enjoyable. It was different when they were out and about on the resort and in the hotel; Harry hadn't found it strange to see naked people walking about and it hadn't bothered him at all, but this was different. This was his private hotel room. With a man he found he liked a lot. Who was about to have his head in Harry's crotch. He was screwed.

The door creaked as Draco came back in, his wand obviously hidden in his bunched-up towel.

“Now can I take a look?” Draco asked after he had fully shut the door. 

“I think it's all better now.” Harry tried to keep his voice level as he spoke, but at the sight of Draco's raised eyebrow he knew he'd failed. “Fine,” Harry muttered, lying back down and throwing his forearm over his eyes.

Harry kept his face covered as Draco waved his wand over his groin, the warmth of the healing spell surging through him. Acting on impulse, Harry cupped his balls and sighed in relief as he felt no lingering pain. Looking up, Harry was shocked to see a strange look on Draco's face. Harry leaned almost imperceptibly forward.

“Thank you,” he told Draco earnestly, Draco's lips inches from his own. 

Draco moved forward slightly but obviously didn't have good enough balance; he fell off the bed. The moment broken, Harry couldn't hold in his laughter and held a hand out to help Draco up. “Come on,” Harry said as he helped him off the floor, “we need a drink.”

Harry noticed the slight blush colouring Draco's cheeks and was sure his own were a matching colour.

“Why don't you get dressed; it's nearly dinner time. I'll meet you down there,” Draco said, wrapping his wand back into his towel and walking towards the door. “If you want,” he added with a smile.

Harry nodded and flopped back onto the bed. _What the fuck was that?_

~

Harry showered and dressed quickly and pushing all confusing thoughts to the back of his mind, went to meet Draco. 

Dinner was, once again, fantastic. Good food and good wine; he really was going to go home two stone heavier. Food finished, Harry sat back in his chair and relaxed. “More wine?” he asked his companion.

Harry laughed as the grumpy waiter who had been serving them all week came towards them as soon as the words were out of his mouth, bottle in hand. The grumpy waiter—Harry thought he really should learn their names—carefully placed the bottle on the table and Draco snatched it up.

“What's this?” Draco asked, his eyes popping out as he surveyed the label. “We didn't order champagne.”

“The ladies sitting over there sent it over for you, sirs,” the waiter explained, gesturing to a small table on the other side of the hall. “With a message: I apologise, and we'd love you two to join us.”

Harry was pleased to see—not that he acknowledged it—Draco's look of horror at the waiter's words. The waiter easily popped the cork and poured both Harry and Draco a glass each.

“Thank you,” Draco said before raising his glass to the Giggly Girls. “We'll take it from here.”

The waiter nodded and walked away.

“We can't accept that if we're not going over there,” Harry said. “Tell me we're not going over there?” he added quickly.

Draco smiled and put the glass of bubbly in Harry's hand. “Of course not!” he said, initiating a toast. “I have no interest in giggling girls, but I do have an interest in fine champagne. Drink up!”

Harry shrugged and clinked his glass to Draco's. Champagne for a ball in the groin. He could cope with that.

_SMASH!_

At first, Harry had had the insane thought that his glass had smashed as he toasted Draco, but a second loud smash threw that idea out of the window. Well, the space where the window should have been. The two large windows overlooking the gardens of the hotel were shattered, and scattered, over the far end of the dining room.

Harry was frozen in his chair as people ran about to get away from the flying glass. Harry had to grip the tabletop tightly to keep himself from pulling his wand out. A quick glance at Draco told Harry that he felt the same way.

“What the hell is going on?” Harry muttered, finally finding his feet and walking over to the damage.

Draco was at his side in a second, and they both gasped as they saw the two boulders lying a couple of feet apart.

“Please, ladies and gentlemen,” the manager called loudly, “I apologise for the disturbance. If you would like to move towards the other bar, my staff will bring you all some drinks. On the house, of course.”

Loud chatter broke out as the crowd clamoured over each other to get out of the restaurant. Harry didn't follow, he simply looked at Draco and frowned. 

“Come on, let's go to your room,” Draco said, showing Harry the bottle he'd brought from the table. “I've had enough of this.”

Taking one last look at the damage, Harry nodded and followed Draco out of the room. There was only one word on his mind—the same word written in crude lettering on the rocks.

_PERV._

~

Hours later, Harry was only aware of one thing. He was very very drunk.

Harry and Draco had talked for hours about the two acts of vandalism. Draco had insisted that it wasn't just kids, and that Harry should put his Auror training to use and find the culprit. He had told Harry that he had no faith in the Muggle policemen and Harry should 'save his holiday'. Yeah, Harry was pretty sure that Draco was drunk as well. 

Harry had tried to explain that three weeks of Auror training did not an Auror make, but Draco was having none of it. Harry didn't know if it was because of the consumption of the bottle of champagne and the entire contents of his mini-bar, or if it was simply to shut Draco up, but he finally agreed. On one condition: Draco had to help. 

Which is how Harry found himself lounging on his bed with Draco, plotting how they would 'Save Their Holiday From The Bigoted Idiots Who Didn't Know Their Arses From Their Elbows, Or In This Case, Their Perverts From Their Naturists'. Harry really wished he hadn't let Draco name the plan.

“So,” Draco drawled, propping his head onto his hands in an obvious attempt to stay awake, “we'll do one of those stake thingies.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Harry murmured before falling asleep.

~

Harry awoke to a strange feeling; one he hadn't felt for a long time: the feel of a hard cock pressing up against his arse. He tried his best to think over last night. _What happened? Where am I? Whose cock is that? What the fuck?_

His hungover brain was not providing any help so Harry carefully slipped out of the encircled arms and turned around. He had a moment of sheer horror when he realised just _whose_ cock it was, then quickly remembered the holiday, the champagne and The Plan. The fact that both he and Draco were fully clothed helped his racing heart calm down considerably.

Harry's head thumped painfully and Harry debated whether to go to the bathroom to look for another potion or go back to sleep. The thought of the warm bed versus the cold tiles of the bathroom made his decision for him, and he settled back down to sleep some more.

The next time Harry awoke, it was to an empty bed. Thinking that Draco had returned to his own room, Harry decided to go searching for that potion.

“Aargh!” he cried as he opened the door. 

Draco was stood in the centre of the bathroom, towel drying his hair, obviously having just stepped out of the shower. Drops of water ran down his naked torso and Harry panicked.

“I'm so sorry,” Harry said as he turned around quickly. As he had his eyes tightly shut, Harry walked straight into the wall. It bloody hurt.

Draco laughed. “Harry, you've seen me naked more than you've seen me clothed. What's the matter?”

Harry turned around and wiped ineffectually at the blood pouring from his nose. He felt his cheeks flame and wondered how there was any blood left in his body to cause his cheeks to flush. Grabbing a towel off the rack, Harry tried to stem the flow.

“Do you want me to heal that for you?” Draco asked, still smiling.

Harry nodded and Draco grabbed his wand.

“Why are you embarrassed?” Draco asked once he had fixed Harry's nose. “I don't recall you being embarrassed when you snuggled back into bed this morning.”

Harry blushed more than he had thought possible and hid his head in his hands. “It was early. I had a hangover. The bed is so comfy,” he mumbled.

“I'm taking the piss,” Draco said pushing Harry's hands away from his face. “If anyone should feel embarrassment, it should be me. After all, it was _my_ erection that poked you out of bed in the first place.”

Harry looked up. He was shocked to see the flash of amusement and the small quirk of Draco's lips. Feeling very confused, Harry tried to make sense of the situation. Unhelpfully, all Harry's muddled brain could supply was _WHAT?_

Draco went to his trousers and took out a small phial. “Drink this,” he told Harry, handing it over. “That and a shower will make you feel better, and then we'll go down to breakfast. I think we need to talk.”

Harry's mind swirled as he showered. _Draco had been awake? Why wasn't Draco embarrassed by this morning? Had he known it was Harry's arse he was poking? Was cuddling Harry the cause of his arousal? Had it been simply morning wood? Fuck. I'm screwed._

As Harry dried off he faced an even bigger dilemma. To dress, or not to dress? He'd been so comfortable in his nakedness the entire duration of the holiday, both with Draco's presence and without. But was it different now? Had anything changed? His internal questions were answered quickly.

“Come on,” Draco called through the door, “it's not as if you have to get dressed. I'm starving!”

The two walked in silence to breakfast. Harry couldn't think of where to start and Draco was obviously—if the small smirk on his face was anything to go by—quite amused by the whole situation.

Harry led the way to their usual table, pleased to note as he passed that the windows had already been replaced. He waited until Grumpy Waiter came to serve them before starting to talk. The sight of Grumpy Waiter's black eye caused Harry some measure of surprise. 

“What happened?” Draco—master of tact that he was—asked as soon as he spotted the bruising.

Grumpy Waiter—Harry _did_ look for a name tag but couldn't find one—looked over his shoulder before speaking. “I was sweeping the front last night, and I got jumped from behind,” Grumpy explained in a quiet voice. “The police think it was the same people who have been vandalising the hotel and pool. I didn't tell you this, by the way. The boss wants to keep it from the guests.”

“Why tell us, then?” Harry said.

“You asked,” Grumpy said with a shrug. “And I don't think it fair to keep the guests in the dark. You should have the choice to leave if you wish.”

Grumpy placed the coffee and tea on the table and walked away.

“Bloody hell,” Draco exclaimed. “It's worse than we thought. They're attacking people now? Are you still up for the plan?”

Harry gaped at Draco. “You remember that?”

“I remember _everything_.”

Harry ignored the meaning behind that statement and latched onto the chance to ignore his feelings for two minutes. “Do you remember what you named the plan?” 

Draco coloured slightly but snootily stuck his nose in the air. “It was a perfectly good name, if I recall it correctly.”

Harry laughed and poured the tea. It was time to make plans for The Plan. Chancing a glance at Grumpy's face, Harry thought it wasn't a moment too soon.

~

The sun was shining and Harry was glad he'd taken a leaf out of Draco's book and used an Anti-Sunburn Charm to protect his bits. Thinking of Draco forced Harry to think about the conversation he knew they'd be having as soon as Draco had finished his morning swim. They hadn't discussed the previous evening's—and morning's— _situation_ yet; their talk had mainly been about the problems at their hotel.

Draco had insisted they continue with their plan to discover who was behind the attacks after they _accidentally_ —with the use of a few Weasley products that Harry had had in his suitcase—overheard a discussion between two of the policemen investigating the case.

“Why do we have to be here,” the first policeman had asked, the look of disgust clear on his face as he said the last word.

“Just for today,” his colleague had answered. “The boss says to show a presence; I don't think he cares much either. Bunch of freaks.”

Harry had had to hold Draco back from hexing the men. Harry was only doing so to stop himself from hexing them on principle. Law providing was only for people who acted 'normal' apparently. Bigoted bastards.

Which was how Harry found himself lying in the sun—albeit on their favourite lounger—waiting for Draco to finish getting his frustrations out with a swim. Maybe Draco would forget about last night in his anger?

At the sight of a dripping wet—and bloody hell, Harry appreciated the view—Draco climbing out of the pool with a smirk on his face, Harry knew he hadn't.

“Budge up,” Draco said upon approaching Harry. “If you won't get off the lounger, we'll have to share.”

Harry did as he was told, and sat up straighter, crossing his legs so Draco could perch opposite him. 

“So,” Draco said slowly. “How long have you wanted to shag me?”

If Harry had had a drink, Draco would have been showered with it. Harry wished he had; the bloody git would deserve it. To just come out with it like that? And how did he know, anyway? What should he do? Lie? Tell the truth? Run for the hills?

“Harry?” Draco asked, bringing him out of his reverie.

“What?” Harry asked quickly. He was glad he didn't have a drink at this point as it would now be tipped into his lap. Beer and cocks did not mix. Unless...

“Harry!”

Harry looked up to see Draco barely restraining laughter. “I don't want to shag you!” Harry said quickly.

Well _that_ certainly stopped the git laughing. Shit. 

“Oh, right. Sorry. I, umm, yeah.” Draco's face was crimson and he looked ready to bolt for the nearest Apparition point. 

“I mean, I don't want to _just_ shag you,” Harry clarified. “That would be, erm, nice. Really, really, really nice. But I've really enjoyed spending time with you and want it to continue.”

“For how long?” Draco's colour was returning to normal, but he still looked ready to run away at a moment's notice. 

“Huh?” was Harry's intelligent reply. 

“I'm not looking for, nor will I accept, a holiday fling just for you to toss me aside when we arrive back in Britain.”

Harry was taken aback by the vehemence in Draco's answer. Did Draco really think that little of him? 

“Draco,” Harry said, looking straight into his eyes, “I don't know what this is, but I do know that I like you. This—whatever it is—won't stop when we go home. I hope. I promise.”

Draco smiled brightly and Harry thought very soppy thoughts that he knew he would never utter out loud. 

“Do you fancy a walk to the beach?” Draco finally asked. Harry was pleased to see the twinkle had returned to his eyes. “If you're lucky, I'll top up your sunscreen. The Muggle way.”

Harry enjoyed their day at the beach immensely. Draco, as promised, topped up his sunscreen by hand; Harry had stilled Draco's hand and applied the cream himself to his _more delicate_ regions. He knew erections were frowned upon on the beach and was usually perfectly okay with that. Draco rubbing cream _there_ —that might have caused a problem.

They played volleyball—stupid, unrefined sport, according to Draco—and splashed in the sea. Harry had caught himself staring at Draco many times and marvelled at the fact that he _could_.

After a quick lunch at the café adjacent to the beach, Harry and Draco had started walking back to the hotel. Their hands were dangling loosely at their sides, neither one willing to move that extra inch. Harry could see the hotel coming into view and knew that it was now or never. Or tomorrow. But he couldn't wait until then. He took a deep breath and moved his hand over slightly, brushing Draco's. 

Harry grinned to himself as they walked the last few yards hand in hand, neither one acknowledging the fact.

~

Harry was cold. He and Draco were huddled behind some bushes, outside the front of the hotel under Disillusionment Charms and Harry's Warming Charm had worn off some time ago. The Muggle policemen milling around made it impossible for him to renew the charm, so Harry simply sidled ever so closer to Draco to steal his warmth. 

Both Harry and Draco knew the policemen were simply waiting for the guests to go to their rooms before buggering off. Useless bastards. It may be a few acts of 'mindless vandalism' to them, but to Harry, Draco and most of the guests, it was an attack. Pure and simple.

Right on cue, as the last light was turned off in the bar, the policemen turned to one another, nodded, and jumped into their car. Harry rolled his eyes at them before sighing in relief. He had a quick look to ensure that they were alone, took out his wand and cast a Warming Charm over the two of them.

“Thanks,” Draco said. “Mine was running out. So. What usually happens on these stake-outs?”

“Well, I'm no expert,” Harry answered with a laugh, “but I think I remember watching a film once. I'm pretty sure it involves boredom and doughnuts.”

Draco nodded thoughtfully. “We don't have any doughnuts, and I didn't plan on getting bored.”

“What did you have planned then?” Harry smiled. “A quick game of chess?” 

“I planned on kissing you.”

Oh. _Oh. Shit. Yes. Yes. Please._

“Harry? If you don't want to—” 

Harry cut him off with a kiss; he found it quite effective. Harry had had enough of misunderstandings and his own wandering thoughts and decided to act instead.

It was everything Harry had expected and more. The feel of Draco's lips on his own was electrifying; the gentleness gave way to passion, and Harry didn't want it to end. Wrapping his arms around Draco, Harry deepened the kiss and gave in when he felt himself being lowered to the ground. Had it been seconds...minutes...hours? Harry didn't know, and he really didn't care.

_SMASH!_

Harry and Draco sprang apart as the horrendous sound reverberated through them and the unmistakeable noise of thousands of shards of glass falling to the floor echoed in their ears. The two jumped to their feet only to see the shadowy figure fleeing into the dark and the massive front doors of the hotel scattered around the courtyard.

“Well, the stake-out was a rousing success.”

Harry couldn't help but laugh. The laugh died as they walked past the boulder that had caused the damage. Sure enough, there was the word he was expecting.

_PERV_

They quietly walked past the night porter, who was talking frantically into the phone, and made their way to the stairs. 

“Are you coming in?” Harry asked as he opened the door to his room.

“Definitely,” Draco replied. “I want a good night kiss. And I would like for you to be visible when I get it.”

As soon as the door was shut behind them, Harry removed their Disillusionment Charms and pulled Draco in for another kiss. Harry sighed happily as they fell to the bed; it was so much more comfortable than their first kiss. It was passionate and heated and perfect. Harry stopped for a breath and rested his head on Draco's shoulder. 

“Are you quite comfortable?” Draco asked after a minute.

“Umm-hm,” Harry answered before he snuggled into Draco's side and fell asleep.

~

Harry awoke in much the same way as the previous morning. This time he didn't shy away from Draco, and snuggled closer to the warmth of his body instead. He felt arms tighten around him and a kiss placed into his hair.

“Morning.” 

Draco's voice was tinged with sleep and Harry couldn't help but find it adorable. Harry turned around, still wrapped in Draco's arms, and placed a small kiss on the corner of his mouth.

“Morning breath,” Draco whispered.

“Don't care,” Harry said, moving in for another. “Okay, maybe we should freshen up first,” he finally admitted, dragging himself out of bed.

Harry Transfigured a cotton bud into a toothbrush for a grateful Draco, and as they stood side-by-side at the sink, Harry was hit by how—there was no other word for it—right it felt. Harry smiled at Draco in the mirror and couldn't resist the urge to take Draco's face in his hands and kiss the life out of him. _Mmm, minty._

Once they were washed and undressed, they left Harry's room—towels in hand—and went for breakfast. They both stopped at the edge of the lobby at the sight of the policemen milling about. Harry hadn't forgotten what had happened the night before, their _activities_ had simply pushed it to the back of his mind.

The glass had been cleared away, and glaziers were already on site, fitting the new windows. Harry was saddened to see the not-so-small group of guests waiting outside in the courtyard, luggage in hand. The manager was with them and Harry could hear him trying to persuade the upset group to stay. Harry wished they hadn't been invisible last night; maybe they could have deterred the bigoted bastard from causing more trouble.

“He just would've come back at a later time,” Draco assured him and Harry was shocked to realise that he had spoken aloud. “We'll just have to go out again tonight. And have less distractions.”

Harry scoffed and barged him gently with his shoulder. “Yeah, right. What we need is some breakfast.”

After a leisurely breakfast, a relaxing swim, and more than a couple of chaste snogs, Harry was feeling a lot better. He only had a couple of days left on his holiday, and he intended to enjoy each one of them. Draco had been— _quite easily,_ Harry thought, more than a little smug— persuaded to add a couple of days to his holiday, and the manager— obviously grateful that they weren't leaving—had arranged for Draco to fly home with Harry.

All that was left to do was to find the bastard behind the attacks, and then Harry and Draco could relax for the remainder of their break. They had discussed leaving it to the police, but as they had already left ' _to make enquiries_ ', Harry knew it was up to them. Hermione had always said that he possessed a need to save everyone, and Harry felt hard-pushed not to agree with her in this instance.

Harry was roused from his thoughts by Draco grabbing his hand and pulling him back towards the hotel.

“Draco?” Harry asked, confused as to why, or where, he was being taken.

“We can't have any distractions tonight, so I plan on ridding us of _anything_ that might be on our minds.”

Harry thought for a second before the meaning behind Draco's words popped into his head. Oh, _oh_. Letting loose a burst of speed, and a very uncharacteristic giggle, Harry took the lead and all but dragged Draco towards the lift. He had to walk quickly—he knew how frowned upon erections were, and his was about to cause a scene.

Harry impatiently pressed the button for the lift and when it didn't arrive instantly— _it must be broken, honestly; who could wait that long?_ —he turned towards the stairs. Taking the steps two at a time, not missing Draco's look of bemusement, they arrived at Harry's room within seconds.

Fumbling with the key, Harry finally got the door open and practically threw Draco inside. And stopped. _Fuck. What now?_

Draco smiled—or leered—at Harry's sudden attack of the nerves and advanced. Harry felt the soft lips touching his and relaxed. _Ah, kissing._ Harry was more than okay with that.

The kiss deepened and Harry felt Draco's hands moving further downwards. The feel of skin-on-skin was getting too much for him to bear and Harry gasped against Draco's mouth. The need to do _something_ was overwhelming. So Harry gently pushed Draco against the wall, placed one last kiss onto his lips and slowly sank to his knees.

Harry sat back on his heels and looked up into Draco's eyes. _Fuck_ , he couldn't think of anywhere else in the world he'd rather be. Harry had always loved blow jobs—receiving, but especially giving—and today was no different. As his tongue first touched Draco's cock, Harry sighed in happiness as the taste of Draco filled his senses. 

As Harry took all of Draco into his mouth, he heard a crack against the wall. Draco must've banged his head, but Harry couldn't bring himself to care. Harry knew there was nothing like having a thick cock in your mouth. The feel of your lips stretched open, the weight of the cock on your tongue, filling you up—Harry couldn't get enough of it. 

Draco's hands gripped tighter in his hair, and Harry moved a hand from Draco's hip to play with his balls. As he rolled them in his hand, Harry thought is simply couldn't get better than this. He was wrong.

“No!” Draco cried suddenly pulling Harry's hair. “Not yet. I want you.”

Harry grinned as he was unceremoniously yanked to his feet and thrown on the bed. 

“My turn,” Draco growled as he grabbed his wand and climbed onto the bed.

~

Draco's plans never worked. Harry was once again under a Disillusionment Charm—with the addition of a last minute _Muffliato_ —and huddled behind a bush. Looking over towards the man in question, he knew Draco's plan hadn't worked. 

They were _supposed_ to be looking out for the people attacking the hotel. They were _supposed_ to be sufficiently _satisfied_ that they were able to keep their minds on the job in hand. So to speak.

All Harry could think about was the feel of Draco's lips against his own, the taste of Draco's cock in his mouth and the feel of Draco's arse pulsating around his cock. His mind was definitely _not_ on the task.

“Stop it,” Draco said. “Mind out of the gutter, Potter.”

Harry couldn't see Draco's face, but he assumed that the wry grin he had so enjoyed seeing was present.

“How do you know what I'm thinking?” Harry, knowing that Draco couldn't see him, stuck his tongue out and silently congratulated himself on his irrefutable logic.

“Because I'm thinking the same thing.”

_Oh._ “Good point,” Harry said, laughing quietly. “Sorry.”

“I don't blame you,” Draco said. “After all, we were fucking hot together.”

Harry just about managed to resist tackling Draco to the floor; the fact that they were both invisible had more than a little to do with his decision. 

Silence reigned, and Harry was pleased to note that it was not an awkward one. It was the kind of silence that Harry enjoyed: one you shared with friends.

“What do you think it'll be like when we get home?”

Harry was taken aback at the question. It wasn't only the suddenness of the question, it was also the tone of Draco's voice as he spoke. It was the _worried_ tone that Harry found surprising.

“What do you mean?”

Draco laughed humourlessly. “What I mean is: how is everybody going to take _this_?”

“I don't care,” Harry blurted out. “I mean, I don't care what anybody thinks. I'm past caring.”

“Not even W—your friends?” Harry smiled at Draco's almost-slip; he'd been doing it all holiday.

“They'll be okay. Eventually.” Harry really believed it. They had grown up, and for all Hermione's nagging and Ron's nonchalance, they simply wanted Harry to be happy. “You'll be the best of friends before you know it.”

Draco scoffed.

“What about you friends?” Harry asked. “And your family?” he added reluctantly. 

It was the one thing that had been bothering him all week. How the fuck was Lucius bloody Malfoy going to react to his one and only son dating Harry Potter? He was afraid to know the answer, but he needed to ask the question. He wished he could see Draco's face; he wanted to see the truth.

“My parents—it's a tricky one. I've told them many times that I don't plan on getting married to some witch they pick for me, and with Lucius in prison, they can't force the idea. Mother will be okay; she'll probably try and take you under her wing and teach you the 'ways of the Malfoys'.”

Harry didn't know what to say to that. He couldn't picture Narcissa Malfoy as the mothering type, but Draco's fond tone as he spoke about her told him different.

“I haven't got that many friends, to be honest. I have a lot of acquaintances, but only a handful of friends. Pansy, bless her, won't give a shit. Apart from the fact that she'll be slightly pissed off that I nabbed you. That girl has been harbouring a crush on you for years.”

Harry gasped.

“She knew—well, how could she not know—that you were gay, so don't panic; she won't be doing anything about it. She just liked the way you stood up for us. At the trials, I mean. We all did.”

Harry subconsciously moved closer. Draco had only ever touched on the war and its after-effects. Harry was glad to hear him talk so freely; maybe the fact that they were invisible was helping Draco feel comfortable talking about it.

“I didn't—” Harry began.

Draco cut him off. “No. You did. And we were extremely grateful. We might not have shown it, but we were. Those bastards were looking to throw us away without even hearing what we had to say.”

“Well, I wasn't about to let that happen,” Harry said. “Not after Sirius.”

The pair talked for hours. They talked about Sirius, the trials, and even Voldemort. Harry had guessed some of what Draco had had to say but most of it flabbergasted him. It pleased him greatly that he had made the right decision after the war to stand against those who wanted anyone remotely dark thrown straight into Azkaban.

They had shifted closer together at some point during the night, and they were still sitting against the wall, cloaked in their charms, talking intently when the sun rose the following morning. Harry had the fleeting wish for the sun to bugger back off; he didn't want the night to end.

“Bloody hell!” Draco exclaimed. “Look at that.”

Harry turned his head and gaped at the sunrise emerging from behind the mountain. “Beautiful,” he murmured at the breathtaking sight. Reaching for Draco's hand, Harry smiled. _Perfect_.

As they trudged up to Harry's room to finally get some sleep, they talked about the lack of attack the previous night. Harry thought that maybe the culprits had been caught. Draco, on the other hand, was sure that they were just having a night off. In his words: ' _Bigotry is a time consuming job, you know.'_

Harry opened the door to the room, and flopped straight onto the bed, dragging Draco down with him. Harry barely remembered to cancel the spells before he felt his eyes droop. As he drifted off to sleep, Harry's thoughts were not concerning the attacks—there was only Draco and how their lives would change once they did go back home.

~

When Harry finally awoke, it was to the bright sun streaming through the open curtains, and a back that felt as if it had been trampled by a Hippogriff. Sitting on the hard courtyard floor all night had not been the best idea. Hindsight was a bitch.

Forcing himself to move, Harry decided on a soak in the bath to relieve his aches and pains. He went into the bathroom and turned on the taps before starting his usual morning routine. The fact that it looked to be mid-afternoon meant nothing to him.

Harry was about to step into the steaming bath when Draco opened the door. “I have a better idea,” he said. “Let me just have a wash and I'll show you.”

Harry was gratified to hear the crack in Draco's back as he moved towards the sink. Harry had been worried he was getting old.

Not twenty minutes later, and Harry had decided that Draco had the best plans. Harry sat back and let the bubbles wash over him. Why hadn't he known that the hotel had a jacuzzi? 

“Bliss.” Harry sighed happily as he relaxed in the hot water. “There's only one thing missing.”

“Champagne?” Draco asked, signalling the waiter.

“Yes, ch—what? No.” Harry laughed. “I was going to say a kiss, but champagne does sound good.”

Draco smiled and gestured to Not-Grumpy Waiter.

Harry sipped his champagne and laughed and joked with Draco. The sun was shining and Harry thought he'd never want to get out. He would have to get a jacuzzi for his house.

Harry and Draco looked at each other aghast as a fellow guest—a rather large and hirsute guest— approached the tub.

“Room for one more?” the guest asked with a happy smile.

“We're just leaving,” both Harry and Draco uttered at the same time. 

Grabbing the bottle, they quickly climbed out to allow the man to step in. They practically ran for the bar area, towels flying behind them.

“Imagine the drains,” Harry said with a shudder when they were out of earshot. 

When the man emerged from the tub and took a seat not far from Harry and Draco, Harry smiled.

“Thank Merlin for the towel rule.”

~

After a pleasant afternoon lounging by the pool, and a lovely dinner, Harry and Draco decided to take a walk around the hotel grounds before going to bed. Neither one wanted a repeat of the night before; one night on a hard floor with no sleep was more than enough. Both men agreed that a leisurely stroll around the grounds would suffice.

As they walked, Harry's budged Draco gently in the side before entangling their fingers together. Harry loved the feeling of _rightness_ that he had as they walked around the garden hand-in-hand. Harry couldn't remember a time when he'd felt happier.

A sudden scream pulled Harry's attention away from Draco and towards the entrance to the hotel. Harry quickly looked at Draco before they both broke into a run, reaching the source of the noise in a matter of seconds. They both stopped at the sight before them. 

A small group of dark-clad people were crowded around a shadowy figure cowering on the floor just outside the gates to the hotel. Harry looked at Draco and raised an eyebrow in question. Receiving a short nod in return, Harry took out his wand and crept forward.

As they neared the braying group, Harry had to stifle a gasp as he recognised the man lying in a heap. Grumpy Waiter seemed to be trying to protect his face and Harry winced as he caught sight the blood seeping out of his nose. The crowd were jeering at him and Harry had to resist the urge to hex every one stood around the poor man. From the way Draco was growling under his breath, Harry knew he was also struggling. What the fuck should they do?

“They're Muggles,” Draco whispered. 

Harry didn't understand why Draco was stating the obvious and didn't have time to think about it as one of the crowd aimed a kick for Grumpy Waiter's midsection. Harry raised his wand, a spell on the tip of his tongue.

“They're Muggles,” Draco repeated more urgently, gently pushing Harry's arm down. “No wands.”

“Oh,” Harry whispered back, putting his wand away. Harry was at a loss for what to do; should he fight or run for help? His decision was made when another kick was aimed at Grumpy Waiter. “OI!” he shouted, gaining the attention of the attackers.

“Shit.” Harry grabbed Draco's hand and took a step back. Harry looked at Draco, expecting a look of annoyance at Harry giving them away and was surprised to see a defiant look on Draco's face. Harry smiled before turning back to the advancing group. 

“This doesn't concern you,” one of the men sneered at Harry and Draco. “Take your little boyfriend and take a hike.”

A groan from Grumpy Waiter caused Harry to step forward at the same time as Draco. Bloody stupid saving-people-thing. Hermione would have a field day. 

“I don't think so,” Draco said, breaking Harry's thoughts. “So, you're the bastards who think we're all pervs?”

“No.” The men—and one woman, Harry noted—left their original prey cowering on the tiles as they walked towards Harry and Draco. “We're the _bastards_ who think that _he_ —” The man talking nodded his head back to indicate Grumpy Waiter. “—is a perv.”

Harry was confused. It wasn't an attack against the hotel? It was a personal attack against Grumpy Waiter? Harry thought—amongst other things—that he really should have learnt his name. 

“Why?” Harry asked and was pleased to see the men were moving further away from Grumpy Waiter.

“Harry?” Draco whispered out of the corner of his mouth. 

“Keep them talking. Someone must have heard the ruckus and called the police. If not, damn the consequences—they're getting Stunned,” Harry whispered back, patting his pocket where he'd placed his wand.

“That _pervert_ ,” the woman spoke this time, “would rather work here, waiting on you lot than be at home with me. We're here to take him back and show him that _no one_ leaves me and gets away with it.”

Harry's mind relaxed for a second. _Ah. A lover's tiff. Makes sense. Take him back. No—wait—what?_ “What?” Harry voiced aloud. 

“Us lot?” Draco added with a sneer of his own. 

“Yeah, you lot,” another of the men shouted out. “Walking around showing off everything—nothing more than an orgy. You _are_ all fucking perverts.”

“And it's time we stopped talking and took what we came here for,” yet another man shouted as the group moved towards Grumpy Waiter.

“That's not going to happen,” Harry said loudly.

“Yeah, and who's going to stop us?” The woman laughed as her friends bent to pick up the bloodied man.

Harry didn't know what he was doing as he and Draco moved forwards. He knew he couldn't draw his wand on the attackers, but he also knew that he couldn't just leave Grumpy Waiter to the thugs. Harry was well aware of the fact that he wasn't going to win a Muggle fistfight. Well, unless he was fighting Draco, of course. _Could he risk a hex?_ He just hoped that someone _had_ called the police. 

“Mr Potter! Mr Malfoy!” Harry and Draco turned in surprise at the sound of the manager's shout. “Please, step back. The police are on their way.”

Harry let out an audible sigh of relief as the sound of police sirens filled the air, but didn't move back to the manager and the remaining guests. As the sirens got louder—and nearer—the attackers, after aiming a few last kicks at the whimpering man on the floor, ran off into the night.

Draco dropped Harry's hand and ran towards Grumpy Waiter, Harry following closely behind. Harry could hear the police ordering the attackers to the ground and smiled at Grumpy Waiter.

“It's all over,” Harry told him.

“Thank you,” the bloodied man muttered before the newly-arrived ambulance men pushed Harry and Draco aside.

Draco nodded and smiled at the man before standing and leading Harry into the hotel. “We need a holiday.”

~

The airport was as bustling as it had been when he left Britain. Harry didn't think he'd ever find Ron or Hermione. He had given Kreacher a letter to pass onto his friends, detailing his arrival time so they could pick him up. He had given Kreacher strict instructions not to give the letter to Hermione until the day before he was due home. Who knew how far she'd go to find out where he'd gone.

Spotting a tall redhead wasn't as hard as he had originally thought, Harry realised as he found Ron within seconds. After a round of hugs and welcome-homes, Hermione had tried to guide Harry towards the exit. 

“Not yet, 'Mione,” Harry explained. “I'm just waiting for someone else.”

Hermione had a calculating look on her face and Ron simply looked confused. Harry laughed and stood on his tiptoes to survey the crowd. Spotting the object of his search, Harry beckoned Draco over.

“Ron, Hermione, I'd like to introduce you to someone.”

_The end._


End file.
